


A New Dynamic

by Boom



Series: Nogitsune Works [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: FBI Agent Derek Hale, Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, This ones kinda the worst, danger will robinson!, uuuuhhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28682289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boom/pseuds/Boom
Summary: Piece 5 blah blah blah you get it
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Nogitsune Works [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102271
Kudos: 23





	A New Dynamic

Stiles shoved him as soon as the door was open.

“Stiles!” Derek snapped, but he wasn’t listening. Stiles slammed the door closed and shoved Derek again.

“I told you to back off,” he snarled, “I told you to leave it to me.”

“I can’t let you blow off a guy’s fing--”

Stiles immediately covered Derek’s mouth with his palm, his eyes like fire, “I’m trying,” Stiles said quietly, “to do what you told me to do. I’m _trying_ to get you as close to these fuckers as I can without you or me dying. I’m the one with the reputation. I will keep my reputation and I will use it when necessary. If you want to stay alive, you’ll let me. Am I clear?”

Derek glared at him, but Stiles must have seen his assent somewhere in his face. He relaxed his hand, smoothing down Derek’s shirt and jacket in a familiar gesture Derek had almost forgotten, making his heart lurch painfully, before stepping away.

“I hate this,” Stiles confessed quietly, staring at Derek’s chest instead of his eyes, “I hate this person.”

“Don’t say it,” Derek couldn’t help saying. Stiles flicked his eyes up in question.

“Don’t say you wish I still didn’t know,” Derek said, “Don’t say you wish you could go back.”

“I do,” Stiles told him, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Those were to best years--”

“Shut up,” Derek snapped, “Okay, Stiles? They were the best years for me, too. But they’re over.”

Stiles nodded, his face closing into something thoughtful, “No going back, I guess.”

“No going back,” Derek confirmed, forcing all of his strength into that single phrase, trying to keep it steady against the storm Stiles was always stirring in his chest.

Stiles smiled, a small, quiet thing Derek remembered all too well. Sometimes it was too hard separating the assassin from the man he’d loved. Stockholm Syndrome, Derek supposed distantly.

“Forward,” Stiles said, watching Derek carefully, “Regardless.”

Derek felt his stomach drop, his eyes blur, but he nodded, unable to speak.

Stiles nodded again, turning away, then back, “Balionis wants us back by four. Set an alarm.”

“Fine,” Derek replied, shocked by how steady his voice was.

“And sweep your place for bugs,” Stiles added at the door, gazing at a planter by the door, “I found a handful in my place. Can’t imagine what they did to yours.”

“I found them already,” Derek said.

Stiles tapped the door handle before turning it and slipping out as if he’d never been. A part of Derek wished he’d stay that way.

~~~

Stiles didn’t even walk the same. Derek noticed it almost as an afterthought. The Stiles Derek knew was a relaxed walker. He tripped on flat surfaces and ran into things and moved with his whole body. Derek remembered walking down the street with his Stiles, late in the afternoon, watching his arms swing, his feet roll with each step, his spine twist his entire torso to face Derek while he continued to walk forward, then his legs following the rest of him when the twist became too difficult to maintain. The Stiles Derek knew would spin while he walked. He would dance.

The Nogitsune didn’t dance. His movements were conservative and calculated. Not exactly tense, but there was no over extension, no wasted energy. When he turned his head, flicking his eyes to Derek and glancing to the wall, he was both taking in his surroundings and giving an order. _You go there._

Derek wondered, not for the first time, if he’d ever known this man. The more he watched him work, the less he was sure.

“Ah!” Balionis cried, raising his hands in greeting and getting to his feet, “Mr. Smith! And Mr. Jones! What a delight to see you again so soon!”

“I heard you had a hard night last night, Mr. Balionis,” the Nogitsune said, “My condolences for your loss.”

Balionis waved the sentiment away, “The loss of one bad apple still saves the barrel as they say, Mr. Smith, you should know that better than anyone!”

The Nogitsune inclined his head, “Your shipment made it safely, then.”

“Oh, more than that, Mr. Smith, more than that,” Balionis motioned over his shoulder, “In fact you could say I’ve made a killing!”

A goon pulled someone very small from one of the booths closer to the back of the closed restaurant. The girl’s eyes were huge against her dark skin, her thin frame shivering when she was thrown towards Stiles, but he caught her easily, tilting her face to his. She shrank at his touch, but fought hard not to move far. She was terrified. She couldn’t’ve been older than ten.

“What’s this?” Stiles asked, looking back at Balionis.

Balionis grinned, “Isn’t she lovely?”

Stiles tossed her back toward Derek, who caught her before she hit the ground, pulling her to her feet and back to the wall. She was whimpering, but Derek kept a gentle grip on her shoulder, willing her not to move.

“Do you not like my gift?” Balionis asked, mock surprise written all over his face.

“I love it,” Stiles replied with absolutely zero inflection, “But I hope you don’t think that means you can skimp on my paycheck. I have mouths to feed, Mr. Balionis, you understand.”

“Of course, of course,” Balionis chortled, “Don’t we all? Here.”

Balionis motioned to another goon, who handed him a phone, “1.2 million as promised. And a finders fee for Mr. Jones here.”

Balionis sent Derek a knowing look, “I hear you’re to thank for the bad apple.”

Derek didn’t respond, keeping a firm hand on the girl at his side.

“Well,” Balionis clapped his hands, looking expectantly between Derek and Stiles, “I believe our business here is done.”

Stiles nodded curtly, “It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Balionis.”

“Except…”

Stiles stilled and so did Derek, his heart leaping. Balionis was scratching his chin, looking bemused, “You know, Mr. Smith, I was thinking about your work the other night. How hard it is to get a hold of you and all that. And I was thinking about this job, and how it’s peanuts in comparison to other jobs you’ve pulled… Well I just had a question for you.”

“Of course,” Stiles replied, still sounding easy, even curious.

“How long have you been working with the FBI?”

All the air left Derek’s lungs at once. Stiles didn’t even shift.

“How long have I...?” He asked, tilting his head ever so slightly, as if it were a genuine inquiry.

“Worked with the FBI,” Balionis reiterated, “You see, I recognized Mr. Jones here as Special Agent Derek Hale from the San Francisco branch of the FBI. And I know you to be a very thorough man, Mr. Smith, so I assume you knew of Mr. Jones-- I mean Mr. Hales proclivities towards the law. He’s a fine Agent I hear. Commendable, even.”

“I should hope so,” Stiles said, “I only surround myself with the best.”

Balionis smiled, but there was something poisonous about it, “You expect me to believe you flipped him?”

“I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Balionis,” Stiles replied reasonably, “I don’t much care what you think.”

“I’ve been thinking of investing in law enforcement myself,” Balionis mused, as if he was considering buying a used car, “What’s the going rate for an Agent these days?”

“Too high in this economy.”

That got a bark out of Balionis, “Oh Mr. Smith. I’ll miss our banter.”

Without warning Derek heard a bang and ducked, just as a searing pain shot up his arm. He grunted, covering the girl, and twisting his watch for back up. It blinked twice and Derek swept the girl into his arms. There was another bang, then a thud.

“Derek!”

Derek looked up, staring at the two bodies on the ground and Stiles with his hand around Balionis’ neck, the man’s face slowly going purple, “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Derek glanced at his arm, where he could feel blood seeping into his shirt, “You?”

“Just peachy,” Stiles replied, shaking Balionis lightly, “Got him by the short and curlies.”

Derek couldn’t help his snort, getting awkwardly to his feet with the girl still tucked protectively in his arms, “Who shot?”

“Kid up there,” Stiles glanced at the rafters then to the floor below where a boy, looking much like a broken ragdoll, lay dead. Derek tried to get a closer look, still shielding the girl. He looked to be about fifteen.

“Human trafficking,” Stiles shook his head as Balionis clawed at Stiles hand around his neck, “That’s one of my big no-no’s. You’d have known that if you’d actually paid attention to my work.”

Balionis let out a choked growl, punching Stiles inner elbow to get him to loosen his grip. Instead Stiles turned the momentum, shoving Balionis to the floor, knocking his head once against the ground and flipping him, pulling his arms to the middle of his back and planting a foot on his wrists. He swept a fallen gun Derek hadn’t noticed off the ground, placing it against Balionis’ neck. The man stilled.

“How far out?” Stiles asked.

“Not far,” Derek said, watching the gun and Stiles. He felt his watch vibrate and ducked as the doors crashed open.

“FBI!” Erica shouted, “On the ground!”

Stiles immediately dropped the gun, putting his hands behind his head and falling to his knees in one fluid motion. Derek stood next to him, still cradling the girl, who was crying silently into his shoulder.

“Mr. Balionis,” Scott said, kneeling next to the man on the floor with no small grin on his face, “Great seeing you again.”


End file.
